


Grudgingly Human

by Yarnaholic



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:54:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3996187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yarnaholic/pseuds/Yarnaholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post EOS. Scott faces some old demons while trying to talk down a man standing on a building ledge after a rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grudgingly Human

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning! This fic deals with PTSD, and contains some detailed descriptions of suicide attempts. There is also some alcohol abuse and detailed descriptions of nightmares. If these things impact you negatively, then please don't read this. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, items or events as they appear in any version of the Thunderbirds franchise. This story is not written for any profit or personal gain.

Scott staggered into his bedroom from the ensuite bathroom. While it felt good to wash the grime of God-knows-how-many rescue missions from his body, the path to his bed felt like an impossible journey as he struggled to pick up his leaden feet with each step. Approaching the dresser, he unwrapped the towel from his waist, and dropped it on the ground, ignoring the part of him that insisted that it needed to be placed in the hamper. The hamper was in the bathroom – that was way too far to travel at this moment in time. It could wait until tomorrow. Having selected a pair of thin, cotton pyjama pants, he slowly dressed himself and took the last few steps to his bed before unceremoniously collapsing onto the mattress.

 

The incident on Thunderbird 5 had left them working around the clock to attend a backlog of rescues. They had spent the last couple of days working to ‘ _catch-up_ ’, if such a thing were possible, and dealing with any other major incidents as they came up. They’d been stretched so thin that missions needed to be prioritized, with John attempting to assist local authorities as much as he could using his eye in the sky. He insisted that EOS made the task much easier and would free up more time for him to focus on some of his research projects, but Scott still felt tingles up his spine whenever he heard the AI’s voice on the communication line.

 

They’d all been on edge. Jumping from a personal near-tragedy to a series of tiring and ugly missions took a toll on one’s nerves. They’d barely had time to eat or get enough rest before taking off to the next scene. It was all-hands-on-deck with even Brains being dragged out to assist, much to his chagrin. Maybe it was the fact that he’d almost lost a brother, but even Scott had to admit that he’d taken a few too many unnecessary risks and insisted on doing things on his own until help was absolutely necessary.

 

Calm, cool Virgil was livid with him.

 

_“You know, I wish you’d just let us do our jobs.”_ He’d cornered Scott in Thunderbird 1’s hangar after his last mission. He was later than usual because he’d opted to stay back to tie up a few loose ends. _“We’re not on this team to be your ‘Plan B’ all the time. The rest of us are trained just as well as you are to handle these rescues, even if you don’t think we are.”_

Scott wanted to be indignant at his brother’s words. He wanted to dismiss the accusations as just the product of a grown-up tantrum. All possible retorts died on his tongue, though as he tried to rationalize that they had all been under a lot of pressure, and that it was probably the stress talking.

 

He tried to just walk away to avoid the fight, but Virgil grabbed his shoulder. _“I’m serious, Scott! One of these days you’re going to take on too much and botch the rescue. Then, none of us will be able to get there in time to salvage it. Do you really want to risk people’s lives all because you think you can do it all on your own?”_

Scott felt his jaw tense and roughly shoved Virgil aside before stalking away. He felt a little guilty for it now, but his brother was bigger and stronger than him, so he was sure he could handle it.

 

The real kick was that Virgil was right. Each of his brothers, and Kayo, were fully capable of manoeuvring through some of the most dangerous rescues and he would trust each of them with his life. But this protective need inside him was almost a compulsion. Although he knew that it was risky to go it alone, the thought of unnecessarily exposing the others to danger when he could handle the situation himself nauseated him and made him edgy.

 

Scott sighed and roughly rubbed his eyes. He was so exhausted that simple math questions should be beyond him right now. Why was it, then, that while every atom in his body begged for sleep that his thoughts could not stop spinning around his brain, preventing him from blissful rest? He knew why, of course. He’d seen a lot of gruesome things in the last couple of days, but none terrified him more than the sight of his brother floating in space, barely alive, and with him completely helpless to do anything about it. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was now a part of his repertoire of images that plagued his sleep.  If he closed his eyes right now, would he see John floating limply, struggling for breath, fading away before his eyes?

 

As a child, Scott had never really had nightmares. There was the odd one here and there, but overall, he’d been a sound sleeper. It wasn’t until he’d left the military that they started. As a matter of fact, it was the incident that left him “mentally unfit” for active duty that created the first series of images in his gallery of night terrors. He’d also learned that his sleeping brain could be quite inventive with the way it twisted his memory to be all the more terrifying.  The nightmares became relentless, and he struggled to cope. The therapists he was sent to tried their best, he supposed.  Maybe he’d been too impatient to give their methods a chance. He wanted to get better and move on with his life, but the frightened faces and screams hijacked his dreams to the point where he was afraid to fall asleep. 

 

Desperate for some kind of reprieve, he began to experiment with ways to just stop the dreams, but just as he found peace at night, little things would trigger memories during waking hours too. Looking back, what he did was stupid. He should have sought help instead of trying to take care of things himself, but he hadn’t wanted to burden the others, cutting himself off from them in the process.

 

Nearly a year (or so he was told) passed by in a haze, and Scott still had few memories of that time.  It wasn’t until he was at his lowest that things finally began to stick in this mind. One of his old air force friends once told him that the view from the bottom was always the clearest because you’ve finally stopped falling.

 

He’d woke up one morning in a shabby motel room. He’d assumed that it was built to resemble a lodge of some kind with its dated and rustic décor, exposed rafters, and faux wood paneling. His head ached and felt too heavy to lift, but the urgency to find a bathroom overrode his need to stay in bed. It was as he was washing his hands that he caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the mirror over the sink. In a semi-sober moment of clarity, he studied his face.

 

He was unshaven, with what looked like months’ worth of growth. Greasy hair was slicked back and fell just below his ears. Dark shadows lurked under his bloodshot eyes, and the hollows of his cheeks sunk in almost as far as his cheekbones stuck out. The stench of cheap whiskey and body odor assaulted his senses. He suddenly felt every speck of grime on his body and tore off his worn clothing as if it burned him. He pulled back the yellowing white shower curtain and cranked the faucet to the hottest temperature he could stand before using the complimentary soaps to scrub until his skin was nearly raw. He stood under the spray as he raked his fingers through his hair to rinse away the suds when something broke inside him. He felt his face screw up into an anguished grimace and he began to sob. His legs lost their strength and he crumpled to floor of the tub, burying his face in his hands unable to control the sounds bubbling up from his throat or the tears that flowed from his eyes.

 

When he finally got a hold of himself, he shut off the now cold water, towelled off and willed himself to look at his reflection again. What he saw was just a cleaner version of the wretch from before. What had he done to himself? He was an embarrassment to his father, his grandmother, and all four of his brothers. They would never take him back like this, and truthfully, he wouldn’t blame them.

 

~oOo~

 

Scott must have finally nodded off, because the alarm signaling another rescue startled him awake.  Streams of daylight beamed in through the spaces in the curtains. Though all of his muscles and joints protested, he made his way to the lounge where they always met for debriefings. He didn’t bother changing since he’d likely be getting into uniform anyway.

Virgil was just seating himself as Scott made a quick stop to pour himself a cup of coffee that some angel of mercy had graciously brewed for them. He sipped at the strong, hot liquid before lowering into is usual spot. He glanced at Virgil before completely settling in. He looked just as tired as Scott felt with bags forming under his eyes and slouched posture.

 

Inhaling deeply though his nose, Scott straightened his back and slightly puffed out his chest before speaking to the projected image of John in the centre of the room. “What have we got, John?”

 

“Fire at a recently renovated historical building. Tonight was the grand re-opening of a formerly prestigious hotel. Fire crews are working to put out the flames, but there’s some concern over what the fire might mean for the structural integrity of the building. There are a number of people still trapped on the upper levels.”

 

Scott nodded. “We’re on it.” He rose and turned to Virgil. Despite their spat earlier, he awaited orders, understanding that work came first. “Prep two for launch. We’ll need something to get those people out safely. I’ll take one and give you a heads-up on the situation if I get there before you. If that building does collapse, things could get hairy. Keep communications open at all times.

 

Virgil nodded. “F.A.B.” Both men turned to suit up and head out to yet another mission.

 

~oOo~

 

They’d managed to get most of the people out of the upper floors of the hotel before the back part of the building finally did collapse. This, of course, doubled their work as they now had to carefully search through the rubble for survivors.

 

When things finally seemed under control, Scott was relying on his adrenaline to keep him from collapsing on the ground. As he took a final survey though, he noticed something strange atop one of the neighbouring buildings. He squinted his eyes to better see the figure that was so high up. His eyes widened when the realization hit him that it was a person who was standing on the building’s ledge.

 

His eyes darted to the fire escape and he immediately began to make his way for it just as Virgil’s voice came over the com.

 

“Thunderbird 2 to Thunderbird 1. I think we’ve done all we can here. I’m going to pack up number-two and get ready to head out.”

 

“F.A.B. Thunderbird 2,” Scott answered as he climbed the metal stairs. “I have one last thing to take care of. Don’t wait for me, I’ll meet you back at base.”

 

“What do you still need to do? I’ll come help, then we can both head back.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, I can take care of it,” he said as he continued upward. His heart was hammering in his chest. _Please don’t let me be too late._

 

“Scott, we talked about this…”

 

“No, really, there’s just another person who… needs help. I’ll take care of it.”

 

There was an audible sigh on the other end. “Alright, suit yourself. But I’m not leaving without you.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“And,” Virgil added, “don’t you think about turning the coms off. I’ll be listening in to make sure you’re alright.”

 

“Sure,” Scott said absently as he judged his distance to the top. Loading a cartridge into his grapple gun, he hooked a line to one of the spires sticking off the sides of the roof and pulled himself to the top. He climbed over the ledge and landed with an audible thump on the concrete.

 

The man on the ledge turned at the sound. Scott held his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. “Hey there, I noticed you standing up here. I thought you might need some help.”

 

The man narrowed his eyes at him. His hair was long and stringy and he had a thick layer of stubble across his jaw. Under the cracked leather jacket was a stained undershirt, and Scott caught a glimpse of something shiny. _Dog tags_ , he thought as he recognized the rectangular plates.

 

“Thanks, but I’m good,” the man spoke with a raspy voice.

 

“Are you sure? Because you sure look like you could use some help,” Scott tried again, struggling to keep his voice calm even though his breath felt restricted by the tightness in his chest.

 

The man snorted. “What do you know,” he paused assess Scott’s appearance, “Mr. International Rescue? Do me a favour, go find someone else to save and then you can celebrate your heroic victory somewhere else.”

 

“I do know some things. It might not be exactly what you know, but I’d bet that there are a few parallels.”

 

The man lowered himself to sit on the ledge and crossed his arms. “Oh yeah? You think so?” He didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in his voice.

 

Scott tried to swallow through his tightening throat. Of all the things he thought he would be doing today, facing his own demons again wasn’t one of them. He silently cursed himself for agreeing to keep the com lines open. He was sure there would be questions from Virgil, and probably John later.

 

He gave a single nod and locked eyes with the man. “I know that the screams can keep you awake at night,” he began. “I know that the terrified and lifeless faces burn into your memory, showing up in nightmares, some begging to be saved, and others hating you because you couldn’t.”

 

The man’s check twitched. Scott continued. “You can still smell the burning and the blood, and you wake up choking on smoke that isn’t there.”

 

The man’s angry grimace was breaking down, the rims of his eyes beginning to shimmer.

 

Scott took a shuddering breath before going on. “You start to see these faces everywhere: a person passing in the street, someone on TV. And you try everything you can to stop it, but nothing works. Then you begin thinking that if only you were good enough, strong enough, they would all be safe, and you begin to wonder what others must think of you. How can you possibly keep the people you love safe if you’ve allowed this to happen to these other people?”

 

Scott felt detached from his body as he found himself stepping closer to the now weeping man on the edge of the roof. He placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him off the ledge. The man crumpled into a heap and he hid his face in his hands. “I know that moment where you realize the mess you’ve made of your life and ending it feels like your only option, because no one could ever want to be near the person you’ve become.”

 

He remembered that day so vividly. He remembered the sickening revelation of what he’d done with his life. He remembered lifting his eyes to the exposed rafters of his hotel room. There was only one way to fix this.

 

He dressed and checked his pockets for any cash. There wasn’t much, but he had his credit card. Finding his room key on the floor beside the side table, he walked out the door and to the hotel lobby. He asked the desk clerk where the nearest shopping area was, and requested that a cab be called for him.

 

He returned sometime later with a few bags in his hands and swiftly made his way back to his room. Tossing one bag on the unmade bed, he lifted the mickey from the other. With shaking fingers, he broke the seal and unscrewed the cap, then took a swig straight from the bottle. It burned going down, and his still empty stomach protested the intrusion. Placing the bottle on the counter against the wall, Scott walked to the side of the bed and, while looking up, moved the table to what seemed like an appropriate place. He took the other bag and began his work.

 

When he finished, he sat on the floor in front of the table, staring up at the looped rope dangling there, ominously. Resting his elbow on one of his drawn-up knees, he tipped the bottle up to his mouth once more, fortifying himself for what he needed to do.

 

When the bottle was done he rose to his feet and, unsteadily, stepped up onto the table. He held the loop in front of him and stared at the twisted rope. Tears wet his cheeks as he fingered the rough fibers. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “for everything.”

 

Just as he was about to lift the rope over his head, a pounding noise stopped him.

 

“Scott!” A familiar voice called from the other side of the door. “Please, open the door.”

 

Scott stared dumbly at the door, watching it vibrate as the pounding continued. His limbs moved of their own volition as he dropped the rope and stumbled off the table. Numb fingers twisted the knob and pulled to reveal the broad, imposing figure of his father.

“Dad?” he croaked out, then found himself engulfed in the same arms that had comforted him so many times as a child. He closed his eyes and settled into the tight embrace when he felt his father loosen his grip.

 

“Oh my God,” Jeff whispered. It must have been only seconds, but to Scott, it felt like hours. With each passing moment Scott worried that his greatest fears would come true, that his family really would toss him away. He stepped away enough to see the horrified look on his father’s face, but Jeff pulled him close again and squeezed even more tightly than before. He couldn’t tell whether it was him or his father shaking when he realized that they were both sobbing into each other’s shoulders.

 

Jeff pulled away and held Scott’s face in his hands. He studied his son’s face with red eyes and a furrowed brow. “Let’s get you home,” he finally spoke. Scott could only nod. And followed as his father shut the door and guided him down the corridor. Jeff pulled out his phone and began listing off orders to send someone to take care of the hotel room.  Before they left, he slipped some cash to the manager and the clerk, no doubt to encourage their silence in the matter.

 

Later, Scott learned that even though (or perhaps especially sine) he had essentially fallen off the planet, as the son of an influential business man, his picture was still worth something to the gossip rags. Some photographer had taken pictures of him stumbling drunkenly out of a club nearby the hotel. Having seen the news, Jeff had John do some hacking to find Scott’s whereabouts. While he couldn’t stop his brothers from seeing the state he was in, his father insisted that they keep the rest of the details from them for the time being.

 

Scott came back to himself and stared at the broken man in front of him. He wiped away the wetness on his own cheeks and spoke. “I’ve seen the look of disappointment and fear on my father’s face when he saw what I had almost done. I realized that ending it wasn’t my only option. That the family I was so bent on hiding my guilt and shame from loved me as much as I did them, and that I needed to let them help me get better, rather than doing it on my own.”

 

The access door opened then, and a dark haired woman, followed by a police officer, ran across the roof toward them.  Scott stepped aside as she dropped to her knees next to the man and headed toward the access door. A hand on his shoulder stopped him. It was the police officer.

 

“Whatever you said to the guy, it seems to have helped, at least for now. Thanks, you guys really are heroes.”

 

Scott offered a weak smile and continued toward the door and down to the building’s exit.

 

Inside his ‘bird, Scott spoke into his com. “Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 2, mission complete, preparing for launch.”

 

“F.A.B.” came Virgil’s response. “Let’s go home.”

 

“F.A.B. Thunderbird 1 out.”

~oOo~

 

Scott took it slower than usual on his way back, needing time to decompress. He felt raw, as though he’d scraped off the layer that kept those old emotions at bay. Losing his father had stirred things up for him, but he’d been too focused on keeping up a brave front for his brothers and Grandma. There had also been too much to do concerning the company for him to really dwell on his own grief. Nearly losing John, although much more recent, had so far been the same, even though John was alive and well.

 

But opening up to that complete stranger in a way he never had before, it put some serious cracks in his composure. Maybe it was because Virgil and John were listening in. They would probably have questions. Hell, they might be angry that he’d never told them the whole story. They’d seen him come home looking a complete wreck, and offered support as he recovered. They’d seen the tabloid photos of him at his worst, but they never knew just how bad things were before their father found him.

 

Scott braced himself as he landed in Thunderbird 1’s hangar. He couldn’t keep it from them forever, he knew that. But, he really wasn’t ready for the third degree right now. He suddenly felt more exhausted than he’d ever felt in his life. All he wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. The world could implode on itself for all he cared at the moment. Maybe he’d check the expiry date on those sleep aids he’d gotten when his father went missing. He didn’t like taking them, but once in a while, even Scott could admit that his body needed more than a couple of hours of sleep to function.

 

After disembarking from the ship, he trudged through the hangar only to find a stoic Virgil waiting for him.

 

Scott released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He raked his fingers through his hair and looked at the ground. “I guess you’re probably upset with me. For, you know….”

 

He suddenly felt a weight against his front, followed by a comforting squeeze. Scott returned the embrace and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Virgil released him and placed his hands on his shoulders.

 

“I was. Angry, that is. And shocked and sad and scared, and, well you get the picture. But, on the ride back, I realized that you weren’t hiding it from us to hurt us, and not even to protect us. I mean, I’m sure it was Dad’s idea and he might have been trying to protect us, but I think you just weren’t ready to talk about it yet.”

 

Scott just nodded. He hadn’t really thought about why he’d never talked about that night, goodness knew that he thought about it enough. But maybe Virgil was right.

 

“And, in true Scott Tracy style,” Virgil spoke again with a smirk, “you jeopardized your mental and emotional stability to save a life.” He turned, keeping one hand on his older brother’s shoulder and began to guide him out of the hangar. “I know that you probably still need some time, but whenever you’re ready, I’m here to talk, okay?”

 

“Thanks Virg.”

 

~oOo~

 

Scott laid in bed, contemplating the events of the last few days. It was a lot to digest. From the corner of his eye, he saw John’s projection wink on.

 

“You know, you should really warn a guy before just showing up like that.”

 

“I figured that you’re probably too tired to be doing anything besides lying down.”

 

“I hope you’re not here to get me on another rescue, because I’m not budging from this bed for the next three days if I have my way.” Scott turned to fully face the hologram.

 

John just snorted, knowing full well that his brother would never make good on that. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know it’s been a rough few days for you and…”

 

“After everything you’ve heard you wanted to make sure that I was okay?”

 

John nodded.

 

Scott sighed and searched for the right words to explain. “I won’t lie, it isn’t easy when the past gets churned up, but it never is. And seeing you floating in space like that… well, it hit a lot of nerves for me, but I’ve learned some coping skills over the years that I didn’t have before.”

“Are you going to ever tell the others?”

 

Scott considered it for a moment. “When the time is right, I will. I don’t know when that will be, but it’s not exactly something for dinnertime conversation.”

 

John nodded again. “That night that Dad saw the tabloid report and had me hack hotel and credit card records to find you, I think he had a feeling that something bad was going to happen.”

 

Scott raised an eyebrow in a silent bid for him to continue.

 

“He was pretty frantic and insisted that we had to find you right away. I never really thought about it again until tonight.”

 

They stayed in companionable silence for a while.

 

“Scott, promise me that if things start getting out of control again that you’ll let us help right away.”

 

Scott raised his eyes to his younger brother.

 

“It’s just that you shoulder so much, whether you need to or not. You’ve been our rock for so long, that I think sometimes we don’t realize that everything that you support us through takes its toll on you too. Virgil’s probably already said this, but I’m just a call away if you ever need to unload.”

 

Scott smiled. “Thanks.”

 

“Well, get some rest. Things have slowed down a bit, but it’s only a matter of time before it picks up again. And no matter what you say, there’s no way that you’ll ignore a rescue call in favour of sleep.”

 

“Goodnight, John, stay safe.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for taking the time to read. I had one idea for this story, and then it took another direction, so I hope the paths still line up. Also, for the record, I'm not crazy about the title. I was really struggling with it and just settled on the one it has. Kind words are always appreciated, and so is constructive criticism. As seems to be the norm for me, I've read over it, but I've likely missed a whole bunch of spelling and grammar errors, and could probably re-work this thing until the cows come home, but here it is in it's semi-raw state. 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this tale despite its flaws.


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